His skin is soft, brown, and pleasant to the eye as well as the hand. His eyes are deep and thoughtful- but only at some times. At others, they are guarded, mistrustful. I cannot blame him, our pasts are not so dissimilar; his of poverty, yes, and mine of mild wealth. Our past has been traumatic; we are brothers in fear and brothers in hate and brothers in hell. I have no doubt that we shall follow each other to hell as it is, once we die.